


If my colors all run dry

by wajjs



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alpha Talia al Ghul, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, F/M, Good Parent Jason Todd, Jason Todd is Damian Wayne's Parent, Kid Fic, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Omega Jason Todd, Open to Interpretation, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wajjs/pseuds/wajjs
Summary: "See this, Dami?," he says tenderly, nuzzling the soft hairs, "your mommy loves you. I'll never let you forget."
Relationships: Talia al Ghul/Jason Todd
Comments: 6
Kudos: 311





	If my colors all run dry

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot to upload this here before so I'm doing it now. Third update for my [prompt party](https://wajjs.tumblr.com/post/621749076959117312/prompt-party)!
> 
> The prompt was: _Can we have some fluff between Jason and Damian? like, brother relationship or even father/mother (if Omega!jason is your thing)- son relationship? hurt/comfort is fine as long as there is no bad ending pleeeeaaaasseee?_
> 
> [Here's the og post](https://wajjs.tumblr.com/post/623227190303227904/can-we-have-some-fluff-between-jason-and-damian)

**If my colors all run dry**

_Did it take long to find me?_

_I asked the faithful light_

_Oh, did it take long to find me?_

_And, are you gonna stay the night?_

[ _(I'm being' followed by a moonshadow)_ ](https://youtu.be/UaTfm4ih1SI)

The bundle in his arms squirms twice before settling down again. He looks down and smiles a little at the sight, feels something in him grow loose, calm, like the air when the storm finally leaves, giving room to clear skies. The two seats by his right side are empty, and he knows they will remain that way throughout the entirety of the trip. He recognizes the flight attendants from where he and the bundle come from. Their familiar faces ease a bit the wave of trepidation trying to take over his thoughts again.

Until not too long ago, he’d been traveling all over the world for much different reasons: training, perfectioning himself and his abilities, getting his hands dirty with blood and gore. He had been taking the world by the storm, making a name and a path for himself, with his own hands and with a new set of rules. He had felt great, so great, even if through it all there had been disillusion, heartbreak and an oozing anger threatening to tint everything green. Then, then…

A soft cry saves him from getting too lost in thought. Rearranging his hold a bit, he easily keeps the bundle safe in one arm while he moves the cloth enough to the side to uncover more of the baby’s face. There’s a frown on the tiny features, eyes half open half squeezed shut. He smiles a little at the sight, leans down and closer to press a wet kiss to the baby's plump cheek. Pearly giggles quickly follow.

A baby that's _his,_ undeniably so with his soft, full chest, with how he still feels empty inside his belly, with how he's yet to finish losing some of the tenderness of his bump. A baby that's _his_ and that is perfect, even when he never went looking for one, even when it made him change his plans, his life, his vision, throwing a wrench into most of everything he had decided he'd do.

It's not that he saw the baby and immediately knew he felt love. No, it's more than anything his reluctance to fail someone who depends on him so, to make this baby a remix of his own story, to fail life so tremendously he'd lose his humanity. After all that and his determination to make things right, after all of that came the loving. That is the easiest part of all.

He walks into the small, lived in and run down apartment, sleeping baby strapped to his chest, and zeroes in on the letter he finds awaiting him on the coffee table. The furniture is new, though not flashy, and a quick check of every room and every cabinet lets him know he's not going to be in need of anything any time soon. So he can go back to the living room by the entrance that also doubles as dining room, and he feels mildly at rest when he sits on the couch and picks up the white envelope.

_Dearest,_ it reads on the back of it. The baby shifts a little in his hold and he presses his lips to the crown of the little head, whispering calming shushes. He opens the missive with one hand.

_Everything's been arranged to ensure your security. You won't be in need of money. I'll try to visit whenever it's safe._

_Father's reach cannot harm you here. I'll make sure of that. Take good care, dearest, of yourself and the new life._

_Should anything arise, you will be able to contact me through the usual means._

He smiles, then, brings the baby closer to himself.

"See this, Dami?," he says tenderly, nuzzling the soft hairs, "your mommy loves you. I'll never let you forget."

Damian learns to walk gracefully, so swiftly that after two steps he proceeds to master running. He's bright, and happy, and innocent—a life he wouldn't have had if Ra's had ever heard of him. But he's well protected here. He's warm, looked after and, most important of all, he's loved.

So Damian learns to walk. From dada to mama, he walks back and forth a laughs a pearlescent laughter, making the world laugh along with him.

"My dearest," she tells him with Damian in their arms, perfectly protected between them, "I couldn't be any more proud. You're much of a better parent than most."

He laughs a little, feeling the tip of his ears go red, and this by no means contradicts the fact that they are both deadly and precise when it counts. Knowing many ways to kill a person doesn't mean they don't feel love of any kind, or that they can't share it.

"You are as well, you know," he whispers and gets all warm and giddy with the way her eyes sparkle, "neither of us would be where we are now without you."

"My dearest, all you ever needed was a chance. The rest? It was all you. All your doing."

It's easy for them to lay low and not get any attention hiding out in the open, away from the lights and glamour of Gotham's upper class districts. Here, he is just like all the other omegas who had a child without a steady partner - well, he lets everyone believe that. He certainly knows how to play the part.

And maybe he could've kept the ruse up for longer, much longer, if it wasn't almost 4a.m. and if he weren't still up, worrying so much his guts are tied up in knots. Damian's fever won't come down. It's too high to be manageable, he's done everything he could think of and yet-

He sings softly, lullabies he half remembers, strokes his baby's cheek, kisses his little forehead. Damian doesn't even have any strength left to cry. So he moves quickly, packs a duffel bag with all he might need. Wrapping Damian in clean blankets, holding him securely against his chest, he rushes to Gotham General. It's a risk but for his baby he will risk it all. He's not going to lay idle while Damian's sick.

The drive is relatively short, luckily, and it goes by like a blur. Before he knows it, he's walking into the emergency room with barely enough presence of mind to remember he's here with a new identity, one carefully crafted by Dami's mama. His heart keeps leaping to his throat. He's reeking of distress and worry and anxiousness but there's a doctor in front of him, guiding him and letting him have Damian in his arms for a second more before a nurse asks him to hand his baby over.

He doesn't cry when he does, yet he can't deny the tears are all clogged up in his eyelashes. That's his baby right there. His baby. His—

It's unclear how much he waits. He knows he does. He sits very still, barely breathing, and keeps his eyes focused on the strap of the bag he's got wrapped around his hand. Waiting for news. Waiting. Thinking. Wondering.

How big of a world can Gotham be?

Surely not a big enough one.

Because the only moment he lifts his eyes from his hand is to meet the gaze of someone he used to know very well. Someone he used to fight alongside with. Think of in terms of greatness. Until it all blew up. And time stands still for them, though it's only a second. One that is broken by the nurse from before coming to find him, take him to Damian, and she says:

"Your baby will be just fine."

And he knows the confused shout of _Jason?_ that trails after his steps as he follows the nurse isn't an auditory illusion. But right now he finds that he doesn't care.


End file.
